It invites us, you know.
The soul of magic.
It evokes an invitation into the depths.
Beyond the lived imaginal and into the unlived.
Into the provoked, but as yet unseen.
It whispers to us of sweet nothings and wild ROUS’s hidden in the forbidden forest.
It howls us in and out of form.
The magic of soul.
The soul of magic.
It beseeches us.
All the while reminding us of who the fuck we are…
And who we are not.
And it’s all so INTERESTING.
Yet simultaneously… sometimes… frustratingly… also…
Not.
And it is during the times when even the callings of the Wild and the Deep seem unable to hold our attention and desire that we find ourselves once more.
That we are FOUND once more.
The moments when, no matter how badly we WANT it all, all that it IS still feels…
Blah.
Boring.
Banal.
The interest towards the things that matter most seems to have simply disappeared into the night.
Along with our will and devotion to who we say {and know} we are.
And yet, it is in these moments of disinterest that we are being drawn…
In the words of Lydia Deetz…
Back into the strange and unusual.
When the things we want and crave most have been found wanting…
It’s an invitation to the re-weirding of that which we are.
A rumbling below the surface of all that has become an acceptable mundanity and norm.
A seismic eruption of that which we have hidden {and hidden from}…
As we answer our own call to arms to remember and {re}wild that which we have always been…
And the primordial mayhem it has always been about through us and as us.
This is a going to ground for The Ones Who Once Were Wild… And Will Be Again.
Beneath the acceptable.
Beyond the physical evidence of what it’s meant to be about for us.
As we reveal ourselves back unto ourselves and free fall into our everything.
We stand now at the cliff’s edge, peering into the void.
Will you say yes?
As always…
Here’s to your untaming,
N
P.S.:
My shop is officially open!!!!